The Knight Marshal (The Silk & Steel Saga)

by Karen Azinger

  Her painted warriors gathered around.

  “Do any of you know how this works?”

  Blank stares answered her. Kath realized it was a silly question, but she had to try. “Fine, we’ll just have to figure it out.” She’d watched trebuchets hurl rocks from Castlegard’s walls, but she’d never done it herself, and this trebuchet seemed different, bigger and far more intimidating. Crouched like a wooden dragon upon the rampart, the trebuchet had a long arm angled skyward. A leather sling on a rope dangled from the top. The sixty-foot arm was attached to a heavy tripod frame linked to a massive counterweight. Within the frame sat a large caged wheel, like the wheel of a millhouse turned on its side. “First we have to lower the arm.” She considered the contraption. “Bear and Sidhorn, stand in the wheel and start walking.”

  Questioning looks flashed her way, but both warriors obeyed. Gingerly climbing into the wheel, the big men began to walk. Surprise lit their faces when the wheel began to turn.

  “That’s it! Keep walking.” The massive contraption creaked and groaned. Shards of ice rained down as the great wooden beast came to life. The levered arm descended while the heavy counterweight slowly rose. Kath studied the trebuchet, knowing she was missing something. Twice she circled the huge contraption. “There has to be a pin somewhere.”

  Fanggold searched the far side, hefting a thick iron rod secured to a length of rope. “Is this it, Svala?”

  The rod looked like a giant’s knitting needle. “Yes!” She took the pin, watching as the great arm sank lower. When it reached the base, she rammed the pin into the aligning holes to lock the arm. “Stop walking and get out!” Sidhorn and Bear scrambled from the great wheel.

  The two badger-faced lads appeared. Red-faced and puffing plumes of mist, they carried baskets laden with great wheels of bread.

  “Talbert! Load a round of bread into the sling.”

  “The bread, Svala?”

  “Just do it!”

  The boy scurried to obey.

  “Everyone step back.”

  The trebuchet sat coiled with tension, like a deadly dragon poised to strike. She’d heard terrible stories of trebuchets flying apart, killing everyone who stood near. Stepping as far away as possible, Kath whispered a fervent prayer to Valin and then she yanked the rope on the restraining pin. The iron pin pulled free.

  For half a heartbeat, the trebuchet shuddered…then the great counterweight came whomping down with a bone-jarring thud. The long arm swooped upward with a raptor’s speed. The counterweight struck bottom, stopping the arm at the top of its arc. Yanked by the arm, the sling cracked like a whip, swinging upward with lightning speed, hurling the wheel of bread out across the ocean.

  Gaping at the trebuchet’s fearsome strength, Kath rushed to the rampart with the others.

  Holding her breath, she watched the great bread wheel tumble out across the sea. It stuck the gray waves with a splash, disappearing into the depths. The others cheered but Kath knew they’d only half succeeded. She stared at the ocean, gauged the distance between the bread’s splash and the sailing ship. “Again! We need to do it again!”

  48

  Juliana

  The Sea Sprite sailed off the charts into rumor-drenched seas. Juliana had never sailed this far north. No ship from Navarre ever did, for the north held no profit, only terrible risks and a creeping dread. The risks came in many forms, from tricky currents and dangerous shoals to raging tempests and savage MerChanter raiders. The creeping dread came from ancient legend and whispered lore. Sailors deep in their cups spoke of a cursed sea broiling with monster kraken, deadly whirlpools, and a ghost fleet that lurked in a living mist. Juliana paid scant attention to the rum-soaked tales, but all sailors were superstitious, including hers. With each passing league, she felt the tension tighten like a slip knot. Good luck charms appeared, dangling from the mastheads. Sailors saved a portion of their meal as offerings to the sea god. Crewmen who should be sleeping crowded the foredeck, red-rimmed eyes scanning for threats, real and imagined.

  “Bring her two points to larboard and hold her steady.”

  “Aye, captain.”

  Chartless, she followed the coastline north. Black basalt cliffs towered three hundred feet above the crashing waves, as if some giant had used a sword to sunder the land from the sea. The black cliffs formed a formidable rampart. If wind and wave turned against her, she’d find no succor on the harsh coast. To the north and the west, a vast endless ocean stretched to infinity, a slate-gray sea furrowed with white-toothed waves, cold and forbidding. And to the south, on the distant horizon, always staying just within sight, the sails of the merchant fleet billowed bright like a glimpse of home. Juliana measured the leagues with a single glance. The distance was the price she paid to bring the others north. Despite the king’s seal, the captains balked at the strange orders, insisting the risk was too great. So the Sea Sprite took the lead, the tip of the spear, the bait in the trap, forging a path into the bitter north. If evil befell her ship, the others would turn and run, hence the tension clawing at her shoulders.

  “Ware to larboard!” The lookout called a warning from the crow’s nest.

  At first, she saw nothing, an endless expanse of waves, but then she noticed it. A dark shadow inked the depths, a leviathan of the deep, thrice the length of the Sea Sprite…heading straight for her ship.

  “Captain?”

  Changing course might bait the beast’s attention, so she made her voice stone-certain. “Steady as she goes. It will pass.” Gripping the railing, she watched the leviathan, willing it to keep to the depths.

  The massive shadow loomed close. Sailors rushed the rails, staring down. A few reached for fishing gaffs, mere pinpricks against the great beast.

  “Nearly upon us!” the lookout called.

  The great shadow approached at a frightening speed, faster than any sailing ship. Juliana braced for impact, her feet spread wide, her face a stony mask. Wood creaked and sails snapped while heartbeats hammered. Time seemed to slow, an eternity of waiting…and then the shadow passed beneath, cruising the briny depths without a care for the surface. Sailors cheered and clapped, dancing a jig.

  Juliana smiled, the only sign of her relief.

  Marcus cast her a questioning glance. “How did you know?”

  “Captain’s intuition.”

  He tugged on his seashell earring, respect gleaming in his blue-eyed stare. “May the captain’s intuition ever be true.”

  “Just so.”

  The wind shifted slightly, adding speed to their sails. Empty of cargo, the Sea Sprite skimmed across the white-topped waves. Checking the lines, Juliana ordered full canvas pressing for more speed.

  They sailed north into frigid waters, ice riming the sheets and slicking the decks, making the footing treacherous. Darkness held sway for the better part of each day, eldritch lights dancing in the sky like a spectral warning. Fierce storms blew out of the north. Gales battered her ship, hurling stinging ice at her crew. The Sea Sprite pitched and rolled over mountainous waves. The northern ocean proved forbidding as any bard’s tale, cold and dark and treacherous. Her sailors turned surly, reading dire omens in every luff of sail, every seagull’s cry, yet she ruled her ship with an iron will, pressing to the very edge of the world.

  In the privacy of her cabin, Juliana fortified her will with the message scrolls from home, her fingers tracing the wax seals. Sitting by the lantern light, she read and reread them, searching for surety beneath the strange orders. Jordan’s letter read like a bard’s tale, a saga of treachery and poison and god-given visions. She’d never thought of her swordish sister as a seer, yet she put her faith in the words. Drawing a sealskin cloak across her shoulders, she returned to the windswept deck, yearning for an end to the voyage.

  On a cold bleak morning, the coastline changed. The dark cliffs fell away, revealing an entrance to a bay. Hope quickened within her. “This must be it!”

  Marcus joined her on the aft deck. “Orders, captain?”r />
  “We’ll dare the bay.”

  He gave her a hard stare. “And if we don’t find the cursed citadel?”

  “We’ll find it.”

  “Captain’s intuition?”

  She shook her head, knowing he deserved the truth. “More like desperate need.” Her ship and crew were both pushed near the breaking point. They needed to reach their goal and make a run for the south. “Take us in.”

  Marcus roared the orders. “Hard to starboard!”

  Sailors scurried up the rigging, trimming sails as the Sea Sprite heaved to the starboard side.

  Juliana cast a glance behind. The fleet followed, keeping their distance, their numbers diminished by two. Two ships lost to wind or wave or some other calamity, she shuddered at the loss, praying the voyage was worth the price.

  The Sea Sprite tacked to starboard, riding the swells toward the bay. Jagged spires of dark rock thrust from the sea like a monster baring needle-sharp teeth. At their tips, the spires narrowed to a sharp sword-width, but at their barnacle-encrusted base, the spires were wide enough to hide a ship…or two. “Tell the lookouts to keep sharp.”

  “Aye, captain.”

  A flock of seagulls gave escort, screaming a mournful cry. The Sea Sprite passed between the spires. Juliana tensed, fearing an ambush, but the sea remained empty of enemies. Overhead the sails fluttered and sagged, caught in the spire’s wind-shadow. The Sprite’s speed slowly bled away, but her impetus carried them forward into the bay. Escaping the spire’s shadow, the wind billowed the mainsail, snapping it full, and the Sea Sprite leaped forward, slicing the waves.

  The entranceway opened into a vast bowl-shaped bay. Towering basalt cliffs ringed the bay like fortress walls. Stark and imposing, the sheer cliffs implied a cold threat instead of safe harbor, as if the land repulsed the sea and those that sailed upon it.

  Beside her Marcus growled. “I don’t like it. This bay has a foul feel about it.”

  “More proof we’ve sailed to the right place.”

  He sucked air through the gap in his front teeth. “The Mordant’s lair.”

  “Just so.” She stood on the aftdeck, scrying the wave patterns and the subtle sea colors, the only clues to the bay’s depths. “Steady as she goes.” She kept her ship on a straight course, plying a path toward the bay’s heart.

  “Ware the castle!” The lookout sang a warning, pointing toward the northeast.

  Juliana shivered when she saw it, making the hand sign against evil. A massive fortress reared above the sea cliffs, dark and grim and potent with brutal power. She’d dreamt of the Mordant’s castle at journey’s end, but this dark monstrosity exceeded all her nightmares. Massive in scale, the fortress loomed over the bay like an armored fist, reeking of menace. Tiers of crenellated battlements spiraled upward like a stone beehive. Studded with catapults and trebuchets, the walls bristled with threat. She half expected to see winged monsters perched on the ramparts, waiting to attack her ship.

  “Captain?”

  Startled from her thoughts, she cast a wary glance at her first mate. “What do you think?”

  He scowled. “Too many catapults. One hit and we’re holed.”

  “Just so.”

  He tugged on his earring, a nervous gesture. “There’s no banners on the walls. How do we tell if the dark-damned fortress is held by friend of foe?”

  A chill shivered down her spine. She’d expected bright pennants to flutter from the ramparts, proof the citadel was defeated. Instead she saw nothing but dark battlements studded with catapults, a fortress gird for war.

  “Friend or foe?”

  After such a long voyage, Juliana knew what her answer had to be, but it sat in her stomach like a bilge water. “We tempt them.”

  “What?”

  “We sail within range of their war engines and tempt them to attack.”

  He stared at her, his voice dropping to a low growl. “A tricky gambit. Is it worth the risk?”

  “We’ve come this far, we have to know.”

  “And if they attack?”

  She swallowed hard. “We turn sail and run for home.”

  He held her gaze. “Seems a risky ploy.”

  “It’s all we have.”

  He gave her a grim nod. “Dance with the devil, and pray like hell he doesn’t catch us.”

  “Just so.” She gave the order. “Helmsman hold steady. Let’s give them a chance to see our colors.”

  “Aye, captain.”

  She felt the tension ripple through her crew. Sailors climbed the rigging and clung to the railing. Every spare hand manned the rails, watching the fortress. Seagulls screamed overhead as the canvas sails snapped taught, but not a word was spoken. The Sea Sprite speared a path across the bay, closing on the grim fortress.

  Juliana watched the ramparts, set to flinch at the first sign of attack. With every passing ship-length she felt the menace grow. Fear tightened like a serpent coiling in her stomach, yet she held to the course. A sunbeam pierced the clouds illuminating the mainsail, a checkered pattern of blue and red emblazoned with a white osprey, the proud sigil of Navarre.

  “They should see us now, captain.”

  “Aye, there’s no mistaking our colors. Sound the conch just to be sure.”

  A seaman raised the great conch shell to his lips. The mournful wail rang out across the bay like a challenge. Once, twice, the conch sounded, yet there was no answer from the fortress. The dark castle loomed large, yet the war engines remained dormant. Juliana judged the distance with a critical eye. Close enough to taunt yet far enough to run. “Hard to port! Let’s set a sharp tack and run before their walls.”

  Sailors leaped to obey, climbing the rigging to set the sails. Canvass snapped to the new heading and the Sea Sprite hauled to port, throwing up a cold spray. They ran beneath the dark walls, tacking back and forth, like a plump pigeon baiting a hawk.

  Details became clear, a long stairway chiseled in the cliffs ran from the fortress down to the sea. A battlement protruded from the cliff’s base, a single catapult guarding the stone dock, yet she saw no sign of soldiers. If the fortress feared the sea, they did not show it.

  Five times they traversed the width of the bay, flaunting their colors, yet the fortress remained quiet, a dark riddle wrapped in threat.

  Marcus leaned close. “Do you think it’s a trap?”

  “A strange sort of trap…unless they mean to lure us to the dock to board us.”

  Marcus tugged his earring. “Not what I’d expect from the Mordant.”

  “Nor I.” She flicked a glance toward the helmsman. “Hold her steady.” She turned back to Marcus. “We’re not done tempting fate. One way or another, we need an answer. Take her closer by another two ship lengths.”

  The Sea Sprite edged closer to the great fortress, tacking back and forth beneath the battlements.

  Juliana stood on the aftdeck, her gaze scanning the tiered catapults, every one a threat to her ship.

  Something splashed white in the slate gray sea. “Lookout report!”

  Wren leaned from the crow’s nest, pointing to larboard. “Something hit over there, captain, a splash like a large seabird.”

  She scanned the wave tops but saw no bird rising from the foam.

  “Captain, another one!” One of the deck hands pointed.

  She gripped the railing, scanning the sea, but saw nothing.

  The lookout sang out, “Ware the castle, one of the war engines is loosing stone!”

  Her gaze snapped to the fortress. She saw it then, near the top tier, the mighty arm of a catapult snapping forward. Something tumbled through the sky, smaller than she expected. It struck with a white splash, closer to her ship than she liked…yet the splash was small. A single splash, a single catapult, why use only one war engine when the fortress was ringed with them? If this truly was an attack, the sea should be frothing with water spouts, her ship imperiled by a bombardment of death. “This makes no sense.”

  “Captain?”


  Hearing the urgency in her first mate’s voice, she issued the order. “Hard to port!”

  The helmsman put the rudder hard over as sailors scrambled to trim the sails. Another splash hit closer to her ship. The Sea Sprite heeled hard to port, the deck slanting at a steep angle. Juliana gripped the railing, willing speed to her ship.

  Splat! Something struck the deck.

  Juliana cringed, expecting death screams and cracking timbers…but the Sea Sprite sailed on. Puzzled, she leaped from the aftdeck, needing to know. Seamen clustered in a knot at middeck. Jango turned, a startled look on his tattooed face. “Captain, you’ll not be believin’ this.”

  They opened a path for her, and she saw what had hit her ship…a giant wheel of brown bread splattered on her deck like a pancake! She struggled not to gape.

  Jango offered her a torn hunk, a smile on his swarthy face. “Brown bread, stuffed with nuts and raisins…and it’s still warm from the oven!”

  She took the offering, sniffed it, and then dared a bite…warm and nutty and rich with raisins.

  Marcus appeared at her side. “Captain? What does it mean?”

  Juliana grinned. “Unless this is poisoned, it means a warm welcome.”

  All around her, crewmen cheered.

  “Marcus you have the helm, take us in!”

  The Sea Sprite turned for the coast, heading for the stone dock beneath the dark fortress. Juliana watched from the foredeck, a swell of pride in her crew. They’d made their way north, forging a path through treacherous seas and daring the Mordant’s fortress. Bread from catapults, she smiled at the strange greeting. Against all the odds, her sister’s words had proved true.

  49

  Katherine

  “A hit!” Kath and the others rushed to the ramparts, staring down at the ship. Gripping the battlement, she prayed for the message to be clear. “Come on…turn, turn…trust us!” Tilting at a drunken angle, the ship began to turn. For a handful of heartbeats, it danced upon the waves, as if balanced on the knife-edge of indecision. Kath held her breath, willing the ship to turn. The wind caught the sails, billowing the red and blue checks. The ship righted and leaped forward, plowing a course straight for the citadel.